


[bond and free]

by ephemerall



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Stanford Era, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-01
Updated: 2011-12-01
Packaged: 2017-11-01 04:28:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/351936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemerall/pseuds/ephemerall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He isn’t gone more than a month and Dean is practically knocking down the door to his room. He opens the door and Dean grabs him b the collar, pulling him in and pushing him against the door at the same time. “Dean,” Sam murmurs and Dean presses their foreheads together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	[bond and free]

He isn’t gone more than a month and Dean is practically knocking down the door to his room. He opens the door and Dean grabs him b the collar, pulling him in and pushing him against the door at the same time. “Dean,” Sam murmurs and Dean presses their foreheads together.

“God, I’m so fucked up over you,” Dean says quietly, urgently. “I can’t fucking _breathe_ without you, Sammy.” He crashes their mouths together, Sam fisting Dean’s jacket and shirt at the waist, pulling Dean so tight against him there is barely enough room for air.

It’s easy to get lost in this, in _them_ , the way they feel against each other, but they can’t do this here – Sam has a roommate and they’re in the goddamn dorm hall, for Christ’s sake. He pulls back a little, forces himself to breathe, forehead resting against Dean’s and breathing like he’s just run for miles. “Not here,” Sam says quietly. “Let me just… Don’t move, okay?” Dean nods.

Sam disappears inside and comes back with his hoodie ad a Stanford lanyard with his student ID and room key attached, and closes the door behind him and wordlessly follows Dean down the hall and out the front door.

They don’t talk in the car; Dean drives and Sam takes turns watching everything whiz by and watching Dean. The Super 8 Dean’s staying at isn’t far from campus – 15 minutes tops – and Sam really isn’t surprised Dean was so close. He parks and they head inside without talking, still, because they don’t need to.

Sam follows him past the row of doors on the bottom floor to Dean’s room, and follows him in; he opens his mouth to say something, ask what brought this on, but he doesn’t get the chance to say a word. As soon as the door is closed Dean is on him, crowding him back against it, crushing their mouths together, hands pushing up the hem o Sam’s tee shirt to get his hands on skin, dig his fingers into Sam’s skinny hips.

“Can’t stop thinking about this,” Dean murmurs against Sam’s lips. “Can’t stop thinking about this, about you, Sammy.” Sam lifts his arms when Dean tugs his shirt up, lets Dean pull it up and off, dropping it on the floor to their right. He moans louder than normal when Dean sucks a mark into his neck, wondering how he’ll explain it to Jess, and then Dean is pressing their hips tight and grinding them together and he forgets about explaining anything to anyone. Dean reaches down, palming Sam’s dick through his jeans.

“Fuck,” Sam whispers. “Please, Dean…want you to fuck me.”

Dean stops then, breathing hard. “God, Sammy,” he says hoarsely against Sam’s mouth. “Get on the bed,” he says, stepping back to allow Sam to move forward. Sam doesn’t question him like Dean knew he wouldn’t, just moves toward the bed. Dean strips off his jacket and shirt, leaving them on the chair by the door. He watches Sam strip out of his jeans and then digs through his duffel bag for lubricant, tossing it onto the bed. He leaves his jean on the floor by his bag.

“I can’t stop thinking about this,” Sam says, Dean climbing onto the bed and Sam looking up at Dean as he hovers over top of Sam. “God, Dean, I-“

Dean cuts him off by kissing him, softer than before and deeper. They grind together, only the thin material of their boxer briefs between them instead of rough denim, and Sam gasps and moans softly. Dean takes it as encouragement and kisses his way down Sam’s chest and stomach, Sam breathing in heaving breaths underneath him. Dean brushes his fingers over the damp spot on Sam’s boxers, tracing the head of Sam’s cock through his shorts, making Sam arch up for more. Dean hooks his fingers into Sam’s waistband and Sam lifts up to let Dean drag his boxers down and off, cock slapping wetly back against his stomach. Dean pushes his own down and off immediately after.

“Gonna suck you, Sammy,” he says softly as Sam’s watching him. He doesn’t give Sam any more warning than that – jut takes the head of Sam’s cock into his mouth and pulls, pushing his tongue up the underside. Sam slams his head back down into the pillows, groaning out Dean’s name. He works Sam deeper into his mouth while he fumbles with the cap on the lube, pouring some messily onto his fingers, and when he brushes one slick finger against Sam’s hole, Sam keens.

“Please,” Sam begs breathlessly. Dean sinks his middle finger in slowly, sucking Sam down still. “Oh fuck,” Sam whispers. “Fuck. Fuck, Dean.”

He takes a minute or two and works a second finger in alongside the first, Sam gasping at the pressure and the burn, arching up into Dean’s mouth and making Dean’s eyes water. He lets Sam’s dick slip from his mouth and meets Sam’s eyes.

“Jesus, you’re so tight.” Dean says, twisting his fingers, torquing them just right so that Sam gasps loud and pounds the mattress with a fist, white sparks shooting up his spine. “No one else has been here…have they, Sammy?”

Sam shakes his head. “No; fuck, Dean, no one but you.”

“You don’t even let the pretty blonde touch you this way, here,” he says, pushing his fingers as deep as he can get them. Sam doesn’t even ask how Dean knows about Jess and feels his belly spark with heat knowing that Dean has been watching him.

“No,” Sam answers. “Just you.”

“You fuck her?” Dean asks leaning down to run his lips over Sam’s dick. “Did you stick your cock in her pretty little cunt?” Sam bites his lip and shakes his head. “Been dating her long?”

“C-Couple weeks,” Sam stutters, Dean’s lips ghosting over his dick when he speaks, his breath warm on Sam’s skin.

“You can,” Dean says. “Fuck her, I mean. Or let her taste you.” Sam’s dick blurts precome onto his belly thinking if Jess let him fuck her mouth later, all she would taste is Dean, and Dean adds a third finger making Sam cry out.

“God, Dean; please, please just fuck me,” Sam says breathlessly, but Dean doesn’t – not yet. He sucks Sam down again without warning, his mouth eagerly working his dick and three fingers in his ass.

Dean works him hard, with purpose, until Sam’s straining not to come, sweating and shaking and almost wild with need. “Stop,” he gasps, trying to push Dean away. “Oh God, Dean…s-stop or I’m gonna come.”

Dean pulls off of Sam’s dick with an obscene slurping sound but keeps fingering him. “Maybe I want you to come down my throat, on my fingers – then I’ll fuck you ‘til you’re hard again and make you come on my dick.” He crooks his fingers and Sam cries out. Dean takes Sam back into his mouth as deep as he can and sucking hard until Sam can’t do anything but come.

Sam tosses his head back, muscles in his neck straining, digs his fingers into Dean’s shoulders as his whole body snaps tight as a bow-string, coming in long, hard pulses that Dean swallows down without a second thought. Sam is trembling when Dean lets his dick slip from his mouth and pulls his fingers free; Dean makes quick work of slicking his cock and lining up. It’s been at least a month since Dean has been inside of his brother and the thought alone makes him so hard it borders on painful.

He presses his face into Sam’s neck as he pushes in – so, so slow – until he’s completely inside, Sam’s breath shaky and warm on his skin. It feels better than he imagined and he stays still to be sure he isn’t going to come.

“Come on,” Sam urges. “Please.” Dean slides almost completely back out, the head of his cock the only thing left stretching Sam’s rim, and then pushes back in quickly, punching the breath out of Sam. “Feels so good,” Sam whispers. “Fuck you feel so good.” He pulls Dean’s mouth back to his, then, kissing him like his life is depending on it, sucking Dean’s tongue into his mouth and pushing back with his own.

He moves with Dean, desperate for this as much as Dean was, still is. Dean slides his left arm under Sam’s leg, lifting until it’s bent at the knee and almost touching Sam’s chest, and Dean thrusts deep. Sam’s cry is entirely pleasure, trying to push back as Dean thrusts. They can’t get enough.

“Dean,” Sam moans, one hand reaching down to stroke his already rapidly filling cock. Dean angles himself and fucks in deep, hard, making Sam moan, making him loud in a way they never could be back before Sam left.

“Fuck, Sammy,” Dean says hoarsely. “Fuck… I’m gonna come.”

“Not yet,” Sam gasps. “Not yet… I’m… I’m almost there…”

He fucks Sam harder, maybe a little brutal, but Sam’s hand is stripping his cock at a frantic pace, as fast as he can until he’s gasping in hitching breaths, his body squeezing Dean so, so tight, come striping up his belly and chest. Dean comes almost immediately after, orgasm hitting him like a punch, coming so hard into his brother it feels like his insides are liquefying.

They’re trembling after, sticky and sated, and Dean kisses Sam soft and slow like they have all the time in the world, like Sam isn’t going to go back to his girl and his classes tomorrow, like Dean isn’t going to get back on the road.

Sam winces as Dean pulls out slowly; he’ll be sore for days after this, jerking off in his too-small dorm bed thing about Dean’s dick in his ass, fucking him stupid. Dean lies down next to him, pulling him in close and spooning up behind him. Sam doesn’t joke about cuddling because this is too good to ruin. “You wanna stay?” Dean asks, kissing Sam’s shoulder, trying to fight a yawn.

Sam should say no – he knows it and so does Dean – he should say no and make this easier on them both but it feels too good being here, like this, with Dean. “Yeah,” Sam says instead, letting Dean’s breathing lull him.


End file.
